


rotten work

by somethinglikeasunflower



Series: i'll take care of you [1]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, lucas has the Big Sad but he'll be ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethinglikeasunflower/pseuds/somethinglikeasunflower
Summary: He had never before understood how much worse it is to sit by as your soul empties itself of any semblance of a spirit than to ache – vividly painful but undoubtedlyalive.or, lucas is having a hard time with his mental health. eliott is there, just like lucas is always there for him
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Series: i'll take care of you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989574
Comments: 14
Kudos: 106





	rotten work

**Author's Note:**

> this one is very sad, I'm sorry 🥺🥺
> 
> basically this is me projecting heavily onto lucas because he is forever and always my emotional support character. this goes all up into the inner workings my mind recently feeling super depressed, so if you feel like discussion of those feelings and general depression symptoms like loss of appetite and weight loss will be triggering to you, please, please, take care of yourself. don't upset yourself for the sake of reading my catharsis/diary entry disguised as a hurt/comfort one shot ok 🥺 that being said, it does have somewhat of a hopeful ending! I love you all, hope you have a wonderful day 💛💛
> 
> title is from euripides, y'all know the quote by now

The heavy feeling arrives with little warning. Lucas tries, on the third of a string of sleepless nights, to discern its origin, but the strain of the attempt only weighs further on his already weary mind. One moment, he’s Lucas – alive, well, existing as he should – and then, like sinking in quicksand, he feels his bones fill with rocks, his head with water, and he finds himself curling into bed, the air too dense and his mind too murky to do anything but stare at the wall and hope he doesn't cease to exist while he’s at it. Maybe there is no reason. Maybe this is how it is. How it will be.

There’s something deeply unsettling to the way his appetite vanishes in the night. Lucas had always taken comfort in a bowl of ice cream or a plate of greasy fast food. Right now he hardly thinks he could stomach a handful of grapes, a cracker or two if he’s lucky. He opens the fridge, stares at its contents, _willing_ himself to crave a snack, and he feels his stomach contract, shrinking and shrinking until he’s afraid he won’t be able to stomach anything at all. 

He’s never been able to sleep, but he’s never felt _so_ tired. So tired yet so incapable of drifting off, as if his body is determined to keep him conscious, but only just. Awake, but only enough to exist. Not to think or feel or laugh or love or enjoy. It’s an empty feeling unlike he’s ever known. 

His mind feels silent. This is the most unsettling of all. There has always been a running monologue of fears, paranoias, guilt, anxiety in all forms, swirling between his ears. Now the silence is all consuming, deafening in a way so profound Lucas almost can’t remember what it was ever like to feel. And it’s bizarre, the way he craves the noise. No matter the havoc it wreaked on his heart, it kept him company, reminded him that he was a person with a mind capable of thoughts. He can’t bear to feel so numb. He wants the noise back, he’d let it kill him if it must, he _needs_ it back. He’s utterly hollow without it. 

He had never before understood how much worse it is to sit by as your soul empties itself of any semblance of a spirit than to ache – vividly painful but undoubtedly _alive_. 

–

Eliott takes note, of course he does. When he holds him, feels the bones more sharp under his fingertips, Lucas knows he wants to ask. When he climbs out of bed in the morning, watches as Lucas doesn’t follow, stays near motionless beneath the covers, his back to Eliott, Lucas knows he can sense the silent tears that fall to his pillow. When Lucas manages to join him for dinner, he knows that Eliott tracks his fork with his eyes, wonders what has happened to make him swirl the utensil aimlessly on the plate rather than shoveling the pasta into his mouth like he hasn’t seen a good meal in years. 

But Eliott is good. _Too_ good. He bites his tongue and waits. Waits for Lucas to be comfortable. Which he doubts he ever will be. But he still lets Eliott set small portions of food and drink on his nightstand, lets Eliott call his friends and make up excuses to get him out of hanging out, lets Eliott pull him close at night, his arms wound tightly around his shoulders as if he believes they alone could protect Lucas from the world. And on any other day, they probably could, but now it only expands the never ending universe of emptiness within him, the knowledge that even Eliott’s touch does nothing to lift the heavy curtain that traps his soul behind it. 

Perhaps the curtain is broken, he thinks. The lever to open it could need repair, the stage crew in charge of the job could be on their lunch break. Maybe soon everything will be fixed. But no sooner does the thought enter his mind than he feels the hope plucked right from his heart. It’s not a curtain, it’s a steel wall. And Lucas doesn’t think any blacksmith in the world is skilled enough to warp the metal and set him free.

–

The wall crashes down in the dead of night. It’s not the cathartic release Lucas had hoped for, even almost expected, but rather a release of the dam of his thoughts that sends a wave so large it submerges him entirely underwater. He can't breathe.

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks and ten pounds evaporating off his frame into thin air without him even registering. Lucas has done nothing. _Nothing._ Nothing to stop himself from withering away, nothing to actively aid the process. Just, nothing. 

The wave knocks the breath forcefully from his lungs as it breaks, crushes his ribs with its weight, and Lucas releases a choked sob into Eliott’s worn pajama shirt. Eliott had fallen asleep with Lucas in his protective embrace again, and now he slowly comes back to consciousness as Lucas grows helpless to control the way he gasps for air against his chest.

“M’sorry,” Lucas chokes out between painful gulps of air.

“For what, my love?” Eliott whispers, running a warm hand through Lucas’ hair, lightly massaging his scalp, comfort seeping from his fingertips.

Lucas squeezes his eyes closed as he leans into the gentle touch, his face contorting with the wave of fresh tears that begins to brim at the sight of Eliott’s face, still soft, worn at the edges from sleep, “I woke you…” He mumbles.

“Never apologize for that,” Eliott sighs, pulling Lucas ever closer, continuing to scratch at his scalp softly and pressing a feather-light kiss to his forehead, “ _Never_. Okay?”

Lucas can’t find voice to respond, but he lets himself nuzzle closer to Eliott’s chest, lets the hollow, sinking feeling be what it will, and settles his full weight into Eliott’s arms. 

“Scared…” He eventually breathes.

“Hm?”

“Eli, I’m scared.” 

“Of the dark?” He tries with a weak laugh, “I know.” He peers down to see the broken look on Lucas’ face, sighs, and repeats, more gentle this time, “I know.” He’s not talking about the dark anymore.

“I feel… nothing,” Lucas mutters weakly, “Everything is quiet, Eli, and – and I’m just… What if it never comes back?”

“It will,” Eliott murmurs, “It feels like it won’t, but it will. I promise.” 

“Sorry.” Lucas sniffles. It’s all he can say. He’s selfish, stupid, dramatic, insensitive and it’s all he has battery reserve left to say. Sorry.

“I said no apologies, okay? I mean it,” Eliott soothes, “You feel useless right now. You feel like a burden. But you’re not. Not at all. Not to anyone else and not to me. _Especially_ not to me.”

“How can you say that when you’ve done nothing but babysit me for weeks?”

“Lucas. Do you ever feel like you’re babysitting me?”

“Well, no, but–”

“There’s no but. I love you, you love me, we care about each other, so we do whatever we can to bear each other’s weight. Sometimes you’ll need to carry more of it, sometimes I will. That’s how it is. And I’m not saying I can take it all away, but I’m sure as hell gonna try. Because that’s what you’ve done for me time and time again without a second thought. And it _will_ pass, Lucas, it _will._ I swear it will. You’ll be ok.”

“Love you…” Lucas croaks weakly, clutching tighter to the fabric at the small of Eliott’s back and focusing on steadying his breath, “Thank you.”

“Love you too, so much. You’ll be ok,” Eliott repeats, brushing the hair from Lucas’ forehead to press a firm kiss to each of his temples. Lucas swears a bit of the emptiness repairs itself under Eliott’s lips. He knows better than to believe that, but maybe he doesn’t. Maybe his mind is wrong. 

And who’s to say if getting out of bed tomorrow will feel a little more possible, if eating breakfast will feel a little more manageable, if falling asleep will be a little easier, if the emptiness will begin its slow and steady repair, but right now, Lucas believes it might. And for today, that’s enough. 

“Minute by minute, remember,” Eliott murmurs into Lucas’ hair as he starts to drift back to sleep.

Lucas’ mouth turns up at the corners, just barely, but it does. A smile. It feels good to smile.

“Minute by minute,” He whispers, and he lets the rise and fall of Eliott’s chest under his ear finally lull him to sleep.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I know this is super different from my stuff so far, but I hope you enjoyed 🥺 I would love to hear what you think! feel free to leave me a lil comment or come say hey [on tumblr](https://sunflowerlallemant.tumblr.com)
> 
> ficpost for this is [here](https://sunflowerlallemant.tumblr.com/post/632501534546116608/rotten-work-14k) 💛💛


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